From striking, that war-blade struck on her head then A battle-song greedy. The stranger perceived then The sword would not bite, her life would not injure, But the falchion failed the folk-prince when straitened: Erst had it often onsets encountered, Oft cloven the helmet, the fated one’s armor: ’Twas the first time that ever the excellent jewel Had failed of its fame. Firm-mooded after, Not heedless of valor, but mindful of glory, Was Higelac’s kinsman; the hero-chief angry Cast then his carved-sword covered with jewels That it lay on the earth, hard and steel-pointed; He hoped in his strength, his hand-grapple sturdy. So any must act whenever he thinketh To gain him in battle glory unending, And is reckless of living. The lord of the War-Geats (He shrank not from battle) seized by the shoulder The mother of Grendel; then mighty in struggle Swung he his enemy, since his anger was kindled, That she fell to the floor. With furious grapple She gave him requital early thereafter, And stretched out to grab him; the strongest of warriors